


Arbalest

by Flower_Crowned



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpacas, Explosions, F/M, Gen, Injury, Knitting, Orphans, Recovery, Seattle, Yarn, giant assholes, tiny nerds
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-11
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-08-08 01:01:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7736956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flower_Crowned/pseuds/Flower_Crowned
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU before season 6 Let It Bleed. </p><p>The hunt for Heaven's Weapons took the boys to Seattle, a girl, and a whole new kind of weird.</p><p>"Crowley stood on the opposite side of the street, cloaked in darkness, watching the second floor with interest. He'd been tipped off that the Winchesters had found another one of Heaven's Weapons, on Ebay of all places, about ten owners and ten huge explosions removed from whomever had bartered his soul to Balthazar for it in the first place.</p><p>Moose and Squirrel were in Seattle to try and retrieve it. Crowley's men had tracked the boys as they tried to buy it from the latest weakly sucker who had bought it. When he wouldn't sell, they tried to steal it when it was unattended at his home. Crowley had come to Seattle himself when the Winchesters decided to take it by force, hoping to watch them trip over each other before plan C inevitably failed."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

"Harry, just hand it over." Dean ordered, tired and frustrated.

 

"Never! Never!" A tiny, greasy, bespeckled man shrieked. He held up his left arm, encased in a slingshot, and grabbed a stylus off his desk with his right. He hooked the harmless looking foam and plastic stylus into the strap and pulled it back, waving it between the two men who had burst into his dingy Seattle office. "I won it fair and square and no giant assholes are taking anything from me ever again!"

 

"Oh, come on." Dean groaned as a bright white light grew from David's Slingshot.

 

 

…

 

 

Ana Morgan eyed the ceiling of the Knitty Gritty warily. "He always that loud?" She asked Betty, the yarn shop's owner.

 

"Never." Betty said. "He's one of those Bill Gates types. But smaller. And greasier… and poor."

 

They were at the shop late, getting ready to set up a trunk show for Anabelle's newest line of yarns. Their once a month stitch and bitch was happening in a few days, and Betty liked to have the extra time after delivery to fuss with the displays.

 

There was a large crash from the front of the shop that had both of them flinching.

 

"Maybe we should see if he's alright." Ana suggested. Betty tossed her a broom.

 

"Just whack the ceiling."

 

Ana shrugged and made her way to the center of the showroom floor.

 

 

…

 

 

Crowley stood on the opposite side of the street, cloaked in darkness, watching the second floor with interest. He'd been tipped off that the Winchesters had found another one of Heaven's Weapons, on Ebay of all places, about ten owners and ten huge explosions removed from whomever had bartered his soul to Balthazar for it in the first place.

 

Moose and Squirrel were in Seattle to try and retrieve it. Crowley's men had tracked the boys as they tried to buy it from the latest weakly sucker who had bought it. When he wouldn't sell, they tried to steal it when it was unattended at his home. Crowley had come to Seattle himself when the Winchesters decided to take it by force, hoping to watch them trip over each other before plan C inevitably failed.

 

 

…

 

 

"Dean!" Sam yelled, when Harry launched The Slingshot. Dean jumped out of the way, just barely, and the projectile bounced back off the wall, and rebounded straight at the man who'd just shot it.

 

The stylus hit the slingshot itself when the coder brought his hands up to protect his face, and there was a blinding white light obscuring everything in the room. Dean had the impression that the source of the light bounced crazily around the room and curled up tight, trying to make himself a smaller target.

 

Then came a deafening explosion.

 

 

…

 

 

"Hey, you ok up there?" Ana hollered at the ceiling, tapping it with the broom handle at the same time.

 

BOOM

 

The ceiling ripped open, drenching a shocked Ana with a torrent of water from the now busted pipes before pummeling her to the floor with debris. Her right arm hit the ground first. Ana shrieked when her hip and a metal pipe came down on top of it, rolling away from the sharp pain.

 

Was the sun up? Ana blinked up through the hole in the ceiling, unable to distinguish anything until a giant, bright _… goo ball_ dropped into the Knitty Gritty and enveloped her.

 

She gasped, and immediately expected to suck in enough mystery goo to drown in. Somehow, though, it just dissipated, and shot down her throat as though it was air, or maybe smoke. Thick, unpleasant smoke.

 

 

…

 

 

The look on Crowley's face mirrored the slack jawed shock on the young lady's. He watched, dumbfounded, through the first floor windows, as the power of The Slingshot hurled itself into her tiny body. She shone bright for a moment, and when the glow receded, all the lights on the block shut off abruptly and she lost consciousness. 

 

 

…

 

 

Dean and Sam gaped at each other over the yawning hole in the floor. The guy who'd had The Slingshot was gone, and probably annihilated. Sam turned on his flashlight and leaned over the edge. He saw The Slingshot, broken into two halves, on an unconscious woman's stomach but before he could do anything about it a burly women in red flannel barreled through a door behind the register, screaming "ANA! ANA! HOLY SHIT!"

 

She followed the line of the light and met Sam's eyes before he turned it off and scrambled back. He met Dean at the door, and they booked it out of the office, trying to stay ahead of the cops.

 

 

…

 

 

Crowley made no move to follow them. He had needed a trump card in his partnership with Castiel and now that one had fallen right into his lap he intended to capitalize on it. Oh, yes, he did.

 

 

…

 

 

"MA'AM HOW MANY FINGERS-"

 

"Go 'way." She muttered. A hand insistently tapped at her face, and she moved to smack it away.

 

It was a bad move.

 

She gasped, and laid her wrist on her chest with a tightly suppressed groan of pain.

 

"Mothershitfucking-OWWWWWWWWW." Ana gasped. New waves of pain hit her every time she moved, from her right wrist all the way down her arms to her ribs.

 

"Ma'am you need to lay-"

 

"FUCK OFF I SWEAR TO GOD-"

 

"Ma'am, stay down, we need to-"

 

"DID I STUTTER BITCH LEAVE ME ALONE GO-NNNNNGGGGG" She trailed off into a groan, when yelling was too painful, and pressed the back of her head to the ground.

 

"Ma'am we really do-"

 

"Don't. Fucking. Touch. Me." Ana bit out. She just needed a minute to asses herself, and some damn room for air.

 

 

…

 

 

Crowley wore a broad grin as he listened to "Ana" curse up a blue streak.

 

This was going to be so much fun.   


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Only 16 views so far... Anyone have any helpful hints to get some more feedback?

Crowley walked his meat suit far enough away that the police wouldn't find it before smoking out. He returned and hovered over the scene, watching and listening. Soon, the shop owner identified the building manager to the police as the manager pulled up to the scene. Crowley hopped inside of her before she could exit the car, and then steered her straight towards Ana.

Ana was strapped down to a backboard, making it as difficult as she possibly could for the EMTs to load her into the ambulance. Crowley stood above her, taking the scene in dispassionately.

"What's the holdup?" Crowley asked an EMT.

"No insurance." Was the answer. He sighed and crouched down.

"The building's insurance will cover you." He promised. Ana stopped her ineffective flailing and eyed his new host suspiciously. "Even if it doesn't," he made his host say, "The building owner will pay, because there are news vans on their way here and if you die in front of my building on camera we'll have to lower the rent."

"…can I get that in writing?" Ana asked. There was just no way that she could afford a hospital bill, she was a 24 year old orphan who answered phones and spun yarn.

"He'll meet you at the hospital." The building manager said firmly. Ana finally relented and nodded.

 

…

 

Ana had closed her eyes, but opened them when the curtain around her bed was flung open. It had taken her forever and the help of three nurses to find a comfortable position, with the bed tilted high behind her back and pillows beneath her knees, so she didn't move to greet her visitor.

A stocky dark man in a well tailored black-on-black suit, carrying a coat over his arm looked her over and grimaced. He turned and closed the curtain before turning to lean against the side of her bed. He reached his right hand out, giving her a glimpse of his Rolex watch before switching hands when he saw the mess of bandages and ice wraps on her right wrist.

"Crowley."

"Ana Morgan."

Crowley kept a hold of her left hand, turning it so that he could read the wristband they'd tagged her with.

"Ana… _belle_. I quite like that." Ana usually hated her given name, but his soft accent made it nearly musical. He released her hand and hitched his hip up onto the bed. "My manager filled me in. I've already made the arrangements with the hospital billing. Payment will start once you sign on the dotted line."

"Sign what?" Ana's voice was weaker than she'd like.

Crowley pulled a sheaf of paper from his inside coat pocket. "Standard non-disclosure and a promise not to sue me, my company, my firm etc. In return, I cover your medical bills and any support you may need while you recover."

Ana let her head fall back. "I'm not signing anything tonight." She said.

 

…

 

Crowley tamped down on his initial rush of anger at her refusal.

"That's smart, luv." He said. "Tell you what, you keep the papers then, read them over. I'll hold up my end of the bargain for a week, from today. You sign by then, and we're square."

"Really?" She met his eyes again, and what he saw in her was familiar. She was exhausted, and in pain, and scared. He could be patient with her. This deal would be laughably easy to close.

"Really." He checked his watch. "Is there anyone I can call for you? Your roommate? Boyfriend?"

"Nope, none of those." Anabelle's eyes were closing again. He made his voice teasingly flirty.

"Surely, not a husband?" He asked. "Or… a wife?"

"Neither of those either. I'm a little new in town. Just me and the alpacas, but they never answer the phone." Of course, he already knew that she was all on her own.

"Well, I seem to have missed the last ferry-"

"I'm so sorry." She was so earnest. It was delicious.

"No worries, luv. I'll stay with you for now, drop you off when they let you out of here."

"You don't have to do that. I live on Whidbey."

"Really?" He convincingly colored his voice with shock. "So do I."

She looked at him skeptically, so he pulled out his phone and showed her his new house. It was a three story mansion, sturdily built on a cliff overlooking the sound. He had his minions painting Enochian sigils on the fence and walls as they spoke.

"Just moved in." He assured her.

 

…

 

When Ana was wheeled out to x-ray Crowley walked beside the bed.

The orderly pushing the gurney bumped the foot of the bed against the doorframe, and she whimpered when her throbbing bones protested. Crowley whipped around to glare at the orderly.

"If you value this job, perform it well, or I will have it taken from you."

Ana was taken aback at his vehemence, but… it actually felt really good to have an advocate. She probably wouldn't have said anything if she was all on her own. Crowley had a hand on the guardrail now, and was focused on his phone as she was wheeled down the hallway, anger forgotten as quickly as he'd snapped at the orderly.

Who was this guy?

 

…

 

Crowley considered his options when Anabelle was isolated with the x-ray machine.

She had no idea that there was new power within her. Anabelle was - as far as he and his minions could tell - the first being ever to absorb the power of a Weapon of Heaven.

That meant that there was no way to know how The Slingshot would manifest. It could be triggered by emotion, though she'd suffered an lot of stress without causing any explosions herself. Still, until he understood her, it's was best to keep her as docile as possible.

"Have the doctor dose her as soon as possible." He told the demon working the x-ray.

 

…

 

Crowley met her in the small x-ray waiting area.

"When's the last time you ate, Anabelle?"

Ana wracked her brain. "Ah… I had yogurt. For breakfast."

Crowley looked pained. "So, nearly 24 hours ago."

Ana tried to shrug without moving her shoulders. "I was busy." Also it was pretty normal for her to only eat once or twice a day. Now that he'd mentioned it though, she realized she was hungry. Like, really hungry.

"You need to eat before they can give you anything for the pain. I'll meet you back in the ER, luv."

"You don't have to do that." Ana protested weakly.

"Supportive care. It's in the contract." Crowley pinned the orderly with a severe glare. "Take care." He ordered. The orderly was pale as he nodded frantically.

Ana pulled her phone from the blankets and texted Betty left handed as she was rolled through the halls.

3:00AM: You still up?

3:01AM: Haven't even left the shop.

Ana pressed call.

"How **ARE** you?" Betty shrieked.

"Fine." Ana said automatically. Betty let a silence tell Ana how ridiculous that was.

"Ok. Few broken bones." Ana admitted. "But the guy who owns the building-"

"Yeah, Crowley." Betty interrupted. "He's a good guy. He stops in every couple of months. Lawyer, I think."

Ana thought that Crowley definitely seemed like a lawyer. "Yeah, well, he's here with me. He said he's gonna take me back to Whidbey when I'm discharged. Can you…"

"Call the cops if I don't hear from you tomorrow? Yeah. You'll be fine with Crowley though."

"Thanks." Ana said. "I didn't really, ah, have anyone else to…"

"Anytime." Betty said solemnly.

"Thanks. I'll text you 'Yarnover' when I get into my house."

Betty laughed, and Ana had to end the call when they passed the nurse's station. Crowley was already waiting for her, in a stiff plastic chair. He stayed seated while they got the bed, and then Ana, situated properly. With her legs tucked tight in to her torso, she only took up about a quarter of the bed. Crowley settled a large mug into her left hand, filled with some kind of veggie soup, before he leaned back in his chair and kicked his legs up onto the bed, just below where her feet were.

"MMMmmm." She hummed appreciatively. Crowley smirked before giving his phone his attention.

 

…

 

3:23AM: Did she call?

3:23AM: Yes sir. She believes.

The texts disappeared at Crowley's whim. Her doctor slipped in, discretely sending him a respectful nod. Her x-rays were displayed, and Crowley didn't have to fake his grimace.

"Your ribs are indeed broken, but with no jagged edges they're considered cracked, and we're not going to have to do any surgery. They'll heal on their own in… one to two months. Just, try to keep moving around when you can, try to avoid getting stiff. We'll give you some breathing exercises. This," the doctor moved to indicate the x-ray of her right wrist. "this will take longer. Luckily, we don't have to surgically reset it. But we will have to get a splint on it now, and more x-rays before we put a cast on it in the next few days. We'll give you a shot of morphine now, and when you're feeling good we'll slip this on and send you home with a prescription for morphine tablets. Ok?"

"Ok." Ana's face fell into a sad frown, clearly anxious about the coming pain.

Crowley brought his legs back down to the tile and took the mug from her, setting on the ground. While her face was turned to track his motions, the doctor moved around to her right bicep and pushed a needle in.

By the time she'd said " **OW**!", the needle was out of her arm and out of sight. Her face screwed up and she reached up a little with her left hand, aiming towards the injection site.

"Burns." She whined. Crowley tensed, watching for any sign that she might explode. Under his careful eye, she instead… softened. He watched her head tip slightly forward and smirked at her when she caught it, and blinked at him owlishly.

It was… _cute_ , Hell help him.


	3. Chapter Three

In short order, Ana was splinted, given a follow up appointment, dressed, and poured into a wheelchair. Crowley handled the paperwork and the pharmacy, and she found herself shivering on the sidewalk, waiting for her new benefactor to pull up.

A sleek black two-door purred to a stop in front of her. The orderly had her on her feet before Crowley was out of the car, practically snatching the wheelchair out from under her in his rush to beat feet back inside. Crowley was behind her, faster than she could track, warm against her back as she leaned into him. He was very sure of himself, with one hand at her hip and one on her left bicep, lowering her into the buttery leather of the passenger seat. Warmth seeped through her filthy jeans and she grinned up at him.

"Butt warmer." She cooed. Crowley's eyes crinkled at her when he smirked at her. He passed her his coat and carefully closed the car door. While he walked around, she balled it up and put it against the window to rest against. He helped her secure her seatbelt before putting the car in drive.

 

…

 

Crowley was enough of a hedonist to relish the weight of her against him. She was the perfect height for this host - her head rested just below his shoulder, and she ducked to lay her ear against him for a moment, red from the pre-dawn cold. He adjusted the car for her comfort with just a thought.

After he had her settled in the seat, he motioned after the piddling orderly who had twice now jostled his human A-Bomb. A minion on the street nodded and moved to follow the unspoken order.

"Like Cher?" She mumbled as they pulled out of the parking lot.

"Hmmm?"

"Just the… the first name. Cher?"

"Ah, yes. Just like Cher."

 

…

 

The drive was smooth, and Ana was asleep when they got to the ferry landing. She woke up at the first bounce as Crowley drove onto the 5:00AM ferry. Jolt of pain aside, she felt the same silly grin split her face as they crept forward that she always got on the ferry.

"Feeling good, are we?" Crowley asked after he turned off the car. He'd managed to be the first on the ship, a first for Ana. The view was stunning - the water was glowing softly in the early dawn light.

"'ts trippy." Ana tried to explain. "The car's turned off but we're moving. Makes my head feel funny."

"I presume that's when you're sober. Do try to avoid being sick in the car, luv."

She didn't answer as her smile faded away, just shifted to try and find a more comfortable position. Crowley sighed and got out of the car.

"Lets us go on a little walkabout." He said when he opened her door for her. "Doctors orders and all of that."

She was turned and had both feet on the ground when Crowley gently wound his arms around her hips and upper back.

"Why're you helping me?" She asked before he lifted her. Honestly, she had no idea why she trusted him enough to drive her home in this state, even with Betty's endorsement.

"We have a deal, darling. And I always honor my deals."

 

…

 

Crowley could tell that she was starting to ache as she shifted beside him. The shot had worn off quicker than had been predicted - she should have slept all the way to her house, and possibly well into the afternoon.

Her situation was… frustrating, to say the least, but as long as he didn't know how The Slingshot would react to demon magic, he had to leave her as injured as he'd found her while learning as much about her powers and limitations as he could.

She was unsteady on her feet, so he offered her his arm to hold on to while they slowly made their way to the narrow bit of deck next to the front exit for the cars.

He saw the minute that she picked up the scent of a latte wafting from another car. The look of want on her face was nearly animalistic before she wiped it from her face, looking embarrassed and a little surprised. He planned accordingly, and steered her towards a coffee cart on the deck.

Everyone who was already in line had a sudden and pressing need to be elsewhere, and Crowley strode up to the register.

"A black coffee for me." Crowley ordered. He watched where Ana's eyes landed on the menu. "And a vanilla latte and that cinnamon roll for the lady."

Ana looked uncomfortable as he took out his wallet and paid, making sure to tip generously while she watched. He smirked at her when she stowed her reluctance to accept his help, and took the latte with nothing more than a quiet thank you.

 

…

 

The ride to Ana's house was smooth and comfortable after that. She watched the rolling green landscape glide by through hooded eyes and, even though her eyes were open, she didn't comprehend the fact that they'd reached her grandma's cottage until Crowley gingerly opened her door, holding a hand out to catch her if she started sliding from the seat.

She didn't realize what an awkwardly long time she'd been staring at the house through the windshield. Her attention only broke when Crowley reached across her to grip her left arm.

"Penny for your thoughts?" He rumbled, eyeing her with concern.

"It's my house." She muttered, lips twisted down. It had been Ana's house for six months, but she was realizing that it was still her grandmother's cottage in her heart, and that maybe she would never feel like she owned it. Whidbey had been her summer haven, always in her rearview mirror come fall. The only solid presence in her nomadic life had been her grandmother. Without Grandma, Ana had lost her anchor.

Crowley, of course, wasn't privy to her inner monologue. "Right you are. Now let's get you inside your house and into your bed then."

He felt so much stronger than he looked, arms wrapped around her to lift her from the car. Ana laid her head on his shoulder with a sigh, asleep before they'd reached the door.

 

…

 

It was a relief, really, when Anabelle went limp. Crowley had things to attend to - alphas in his laboratory, a new home to tour. He gathered her up against his chest and took a moment to survey the property.

The small house sat close to the gravel road. A pasture stretched out behind it, that Crowley could tell was occupied by some kind of farm animals. It would be difficult to properly surround with all the necessary sigils.

He carried her up the steps to a small porch as the front door swung open, through a small living, past a kitchen straight out of the 1940s, and down a short hall. There were two doors - one closed, and one open. He chose the open door, almost flinching at the riot of color in what must have been Anabelle's bedroom.

All the walls were a bright blue, with a mural of a rolling pasture taking up the wall opposite of the window. Clothes and yarn were strewn haphazardly across the furniture, and the tiny bed was covered in notebooks, loose paper, and computer paraphernalia. With a wave of his hand, the bed was cleared, papers stacked neatly on the desk at the foot of her bed.

She surfaced briefly when he settled her on the bed, pulling her knees up with a grimace. Crowley silently helped her get comfortable before stepping back. After a quick look around the house, he vanished.


	4. Chapter 4

Ana groaned when her alarm kicked on at 7:30. The alpacas had to be fed. With a whimper, she forced herself to roll off the edge of her bed. 

 

…

 

She wasn't in the house when Crowley slipped back in, and a cold breeze led him to a wide open side door. He cursed quietly, thinking that someone - something - had already found her and snatched her away. 

He found her the minute he crossed the threshold, and stopped just past the door to try and asses the situation. 

Anabelle was sitting on the soggy ground inside the animal pen, tears streaming silently down her face as she watched her goats and camelids raid a shed full of hay. Crowley approached her with caution, careful to hide his disgust as his shoes squelched in the mud. 

"What's brought on this catastrophe then?" He asked when he was close enough.

"I'm a terrible alpaca mom." Anabelle wailed. Crowley glanced at the animals. 

"They seem happy enough to me." He said, though, even with all the power at his disposal, it is impossible for any being to detect happiness on an alpaca's stony face. 

"I couldn't get the twine off the bales and then they got in and now they're gonna get fat and what am I gonna do if they get diabetes!?" 

Crowley chuckled before he could stop himself, and couldn't suppress his grin when she turned her watery eyes on him. "Why didn't you ask me for help, luv?"

"You wear Armani." She said dubiously. The waterworks had begun to dry up, so Crowley crouched down beside her. 

"True. But I'll hire someone Anabelle."

"You don't have to-"

"We have a deal." He said firmly. "And don't think I won't amend that contract to ensure your cooperation."

"That's weird." She said. "You're weirdly pushy."

Crowley wound his arms around her, noting with some satisfaction that she didn't push him away. "I've heard that before, luv." He said as he gently pulled her to her feet. "Something tells me you like it, though."

His words dragged an unwilling smile onto Anabelle's blushing face. Her damp eyes and tight lips, coupled with the bruises that were purpling on her cheek thoroughly charmed Crowley as he guided her back to her house.

 

…

 

Ana tried feebly to convince Crowley that he was being overbearing, but her stupid little grin felt like defeat before she'd even tried to mount this fight. His knowing smirk simultaneously made her insides feel gooey and her lips purse in frustration. 

"You don't have to hire people for me." Ana argued as Crowley directed her into a seat at her kitchen table. "I mean, I'm the one that gets hired. Actually I need to go to work…"

Crowley turned from her sink with a glass of water and an unimpressed twitch of his eyebrow. "You'll be taking a few days off." He said dryly. 

"Who died and put you in charge of me?" Ana demanded.

"Nearly you." Crowley said shortly. He set the water and a bottle of pills in front of her. Some of the fight drained out of Ana.

"I'm not going to sue you." She ventured. "I mean, I couldn't even afford an attorney if I even wanted to. But I wouldn't, anyway."

Crowley seemed unmoved. "You should never just give away your leverage like that, luv." He turned away again, and went back to her counter. "Lesser men than I might be tempted to… take advantage. Now, who do I call about your sick days?"

Ana sighed. There were worse things, she supposed, than ending up with an overbearing, overgenerous caretaker after getting caught in an explosion. She might as well try to enjoy having Crowley around before he lost interest and wandered back to Seattle. 

 

…

 

Humanity was so unrelentingly boring. His Anabelle was easily squared away - the pills put her right to sleep, everyone she worked with was possessed, and her farm animals were in the care of a bewildered demon who had been a cowboy in life before selling his soul for a silver buckle. The coppers had been directed to bury the incident, silence the press, and stay away from Whidbey until Crowley knew if it was worth the effort to keep up the charade.

His last venture off the property had ended with such stress on both Anabelle and himself that Crowley decided not to leave her again anytime soon. As a result, Crowley faced a long day of learning nothing new about The Slingshot, as long as Anabelle slept, or his Alphas as long as he was caged in Anabelle's tiny cottage. His only distraction was the endless paperwork that came with his throne, digitized and seemingly endless on a tablet. It definitely lacked the authentic flair that the standard scrolls conferred on demonic contracts.

So when Anabelle padded out of her bedroom in the early afternoon, looking tired and flustered, Crowley didn't send her back to bed. She rubbed her eyes with her left hand and glared at the refrigerator as though it had personally offended her. 

"Hungry?" He asked, not moving from his prone position on the couch. Anabelle's frustration was nearly visible, radiating from her tense shoulders and tight face. 

"I don't know why." She snapped irritably. "I had that gigantic cinnamon roll on the ferry."

"That was hours ago, luv." Crowley reminded her. The look she sent him over her shoulder was withering. When he only smiled and raised his hands in false submission, she turned back to the fridge. 

"It was huge." She repeated. "I can't even believe I ate that whole thing."

"What would you like then?" Crowley asked, climbing to his feet. 

"Ah… everything, I think." Anabelle seemed overly fretful about lunch.

"Tell me what you normally have for lunch, Anabelle." Crowley demanded calmly. After that morning he was curious about how she responded to a… firm hand. 

"Nothing." Anabelle twitched at his tone, but seemed to settle a bit. Good. "I have yogurt every morning, and coffee and maybe a few snacks, and then dinner. I'm not even 5 feet tall. It doesn't take much to keep me going."

"Ah." Crowley murmured as he drew closer to her. "You are healing, luv."

Her lower lip actually quivered before she responded. "I don't like feeling different." She pressed her hand to her stomach. "It feels like I'm not even in charge of my stomach now."

"All of us lose a little control now and then." Crowley reached for her, tugging her left arm to bring her around to face him. He studied her carefully. "Lucky you, that I can be here for you now. I'll order in. You-" He opened a drawer and fished out her saran wrap. "You go take a shower. You'll feel better after a good scrub, promise."

 

…

 

When Ana got out of the shower the smell of pasta in red sauce was so enticing that she nearly forgot about Crowley's presence, only remembering that she was only wearing a towel when she reached the end of the hallway and saw Crowley lounging at her kitchen table. It took more will power than she expected to need to walk away from the kitchen and throw on a shirt and sweats. 

Once she sat down, she didn't stop eating until every bag and box was empty. Embarrassed, she tried to offer Crowley the last slice of garlic bread.

"I ate already, luv." He said, waving it off as he looked up for the first time since she sat down. Ana was glad that he'd kept his eyes locked on his tablet while she inhaled what must have been half of the restaurant's menu. Even now, she absentmindedly nibbled at the bread while he looked her up and down.

"Not that you're not beautiful-" He said tentatively. Ana flushed. "But I think your hair may need some… attention."

Ana reached up with her left hand and fingered a damp lock of dark hair that had rested along the inside of her elbow.

"I can't pull on it. Hurts… like, everything." She admitted. Between her busted ribs, her busted wrist, and the bruises covering everything in between, using just about any muscle sent waves of pain all over her body. "Maybe I should…" Her voice trailed off as she stood to investigate her junk drawer. When she turned around with a pair of scissors Crowley gave a quick, negative shake of his head. 

"Lets try something slightly less dramatic first, hmm?"

 

…

 

Crowley got Anabelle settled in an armchair, with her waist-length hair draped over the top. His steady hands working a comb through her hair (and the four Vicodin slipped into a mountain of lasagna she had devoured) put her right back to sleep. 

It was the perfect opportunity to start experimenting. 

Crowley pushed his fingers into a particularly stubborn tangle near the end of her hair and willed it to smooth out.

The moment his reach exceeded his physical grasp, her hair began smoking where he touched it, and before he could pull back a small flame erupted that he had to pat frantically to extinguish. 

A quick glance over the back of the chair let him know that Anabelle hadn't stirred, so he quickly brushed out the rest. She woke when he gathered her hair together at the top of her head, sleepily thanking him when he had plaited her hair and tied it off at the bottom. Crowley came back to the front of the chair, tucking her braid behind her shoulder to hide the singed bit 3/4s of the way down. 

"It's my pleasure." He purred.


	5. Chapter 5

"Eh… sorry 'bout that." Dean said sheepishly as he handed over the broken Weapon of Heaven. He and Sam were meeting up with Castiel at a Biggersons just outside of Seattle to finish up the job he'd given them, before moving on to a new case.

"… Thank you." Castiel said, turning the two halves of The Slingshot over in his hands. The wood made his hands ache with it's emptiness. He pressed the two halves together and willed them to fuse. The Slingshot, made whole again, stubbornly refused to resonate with his Grace. The ancient marvel of wood and leather had been nothing more than a vessel.

If its power had escaped the vessel, where was The Slingshot now?

Unable (or maybe just unwilling) to give the Winchesters more information, Castiel sent them on their way to a case in Idaho. He would have to visit Seattle himself, to determine where to find the power of The Slingshot.

 

…

 

Dean drummed his fingers on the Impala's wheel, eyeing the road while the engine idled. Sam was beside him, looking equally troubled.

"Weird." Dean finally said. Sam nodded.

Idaho was to the southeast of them. Rather than turn right, towards a standard hunt and burn haunting, the Impala turned left, back to Seattle. Their guts told them that the job wasn't finished yet.

 

…

 

Ana was standing at her counter with her hand inside of an empty plastic bread bag. The bread bag had been brand new and full when she had first pulled it down from the shelf, and she couldn't fathom how it came to be empty so fast.

Well, she could understand intellectually how it had been emptied. But remembering that she had eaten an entire loaf of bread in 20 minutes didn't mean that she could really believe that she'd eaten a whole loaf of bread in 20 minutes.

Crowley strolled into the kitchen still adjusting his collar. He looked immaculate and energized. It kind of pissed Ana off. While he'd lounged on her couch all night Ana had woken up to make multiple trips to her kitchen. His tablet had been glowing between his hands every time she passed him, so she knew that he'd been awake at least as long as she had. So why did she look (and feel) like roadkill when he looked as fresh and clean as a daisy?

Fuck him, Ana decided when he didn't comment on the absence of the lunch she'd promised to make him. He didn't even pretend to have expected it. Frustrated with him (actually, mostly frustrated with herself and the shitty way she was feeling alien in her own skin) Ana balled up the plastic bag and tossed it into the general vicinity of the recycling bin.

She missed, and it hit the stove door with a shocking POP, as though a firecracker had gone off. Ana flinched, then winced for flinching as her ribs protested.

Crowley seemed unfazed by the surprising tiny… explosion. "I'll have that stove looked at while we're out."

"It's never done THAT." Ana reached for the oven, looking for any scorch marks.

"Leave it, Anabelle. Can't have you electrocuted on top of everything else."

"You're not the boss of me." She muttered stubbornly.

Crowley rolled his eyes and glanced at her clock. "If we leave now we can stop for sandwiches."

Ana perked up and followed him out, sure, but that didn't make him the boss of her.

 

…

 

Crowley discreetly pocketed his sandwich as Anabelle was shown straight into an exam room. He would slip it into her hand after her arm was casted. If pattern held, she would eat it without noticing and be placated for 30 to 40 minutes. The Slingshot must have been burning like an inferno inside her, forcing her to caloric intake to astronomic levels.

Taking her out of her house was a risk, but until he knew everything about The Slingshot it was best to keep the story that explained his presence believable. Anabelle was distracted enough by her new hunger not to question the empty doctors office, but earlier she had protested vigorously when Crowley had tried to order a portable X-Ray machine to be brought to her house. It was too expensive, she had said firmly, one hand crossed awkwardly across her ribs and the other set belligerently on her hip. Given what she'd done to her stove before they left his house, Crowley was glad he'd taken steps to avoid irritating her.

So here sat the King. In a _waiting room_. Granted, he was on Earth and not in Hell, and every being in the building was possessed by a demon whose loyalty to him had been proven time and time again. The doctors had been shipped in from a Seattle start-up that created cutting edge casts that facilitated healing through sonic waves while leaving the skin plenty of access to fresh air. Hidden cameras piped every moment of her exam to Crowley's tablet. Still, he felt uncomfortable. Twitchy. It was undignified, and he resented being made to feel… anxious. Resentment, endless rage, really, were a consequence of demonic existence. Control, Crowley reminded himself, was what had pushed him to the top of Hell's heap.

 

…

 

Alone in an exam room while the doctors consulted each other after her arm was casted, Ana drifted off to sleep.

Her dream was unsettling. A new dimension seemed to have opened up to her, existing with (clashing with?) everything that was familiar and comfortable. Simultaneously Ana's dream placed her alone on a small hill near her Grandmother's house looking over the Puget Sound, and in a sterile, utterly silent white room with two men and two women silently staring at her intently. Somehow both places were completely opaque, solid, and real.

On the hill she could hear the water shifting, and gulls screaming, and taste the salt in the air; but in the white room the complete absence of sound was driving her to panic. She tried breathing heavily just to have something cut through the oppressive silence and couldn't even hear her own lungs heaving. The other people were clearly conversing, gesturing towards her and moving their lips but Ana seemed to be profoundly deaf in that room, unable to even hear that pulsing roar in your ears that compensates for normal silence.

Overwhelmed, Ana screamed at them, though she couldn't hear herself, and had no idea what was coming out of her mouth. _If_ anything was coming out of her mouth. When she'd had enough of being ignored during the oddest experience (experiences?) of her life, she stooped down to grab a smooth pebble near her feet on the hill and chucked it as hard as she could at the nearest silent fuckwad, a woman in a conservative grey two piece suit.

There was a blinding white light and a rushing whoosh in her ears before her eyes opened and she was back in the exam room. Her skull throbbed so painfully that she thought it might just split open. As she groaned and rolled over, there was a tap at the door.

 

…

 

"Well that's new." Balthazar observed.

"We're all aware of that." Castiel said.

"She must be destroyed." Hana decided.

The three remaining angels gazed what was left of their sister angel. The human had managed to anchor the majority of herself to the earth throughout their summons to Heaven, and harness the power of The Slingshot to destroy one of their own.

The situation was much worse than first estimated.

 

…

 

"Just a minute!" Anabelle called when Crowley knocked at the door. He'd felt a massive wave of power emanating from her while he'd sat in the waiting room that would be setting off alarms among all sorts of the supernatural. It was time for them to leave and get back behind the sigils, buy a little time while he worked on an untraceable way to hide her elsewhere.

"All right there?" Crowley asked softly as he opened the door. Anabelle had her face screwed up into a scowl and her head pressed tightly to the vinyl top of the exam table, her left hand fisted and grinding at her temple.

"Had a weird dream and then… ow. My head."

"I'll just get the doctor then." Crowley reached back into the hallway, ready to snap his fingers to summon said doctor when Anabelle shook her head.

"Feel better already." She said, waving him off. She wriggled her jaw to pop her ears before climbing off the table. "Can we just-"

"Home again, home again." Crowley agreed quickly. He offered his arm for her to lean on and led her out.

 

…

 

"To be honest, I was drinking that night before I got here, and after I saw this mess I went home and got so blitzed I didn't even really remember what had happened the next morning. I remember getting the call, and that's about all. Sorry, officers."

"Special Agents." Dean corrected absently as he paced around the store.

"That poor girl." the building manager sighed. "She's really lucky the new owner is paying her medical bills. She's trying to make a living selling her own yarn, but it looks like a pretty tough market."

"Yarn?" Sam asked. The building manager crossed to a little display table and then tossed each of them a bundle of yarn. Beneath the name Whidbey Winds, a cartoon animal was industriously working at a spinning wheel.

"Whidbey? Like the island here?" Sam asked. The building manager nodded while Dean cocked his head, studying the label.

"What's wrong with that sheep's neck? Why's it so long?" He asked, pointing at Whidbey Winds logo art.


End file.
